


The Potter Barn

by MistyDeath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, H/D Owlpost Holiday Fest, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Rimming, Smut, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-25 17:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16665139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyDeath/pseuds/MistyDeath
Summary: Draco’s got a strange little habit of wandering into places he shouldn’t. Harry’s just the unexpected surprise inside his latest misadventure.





	The Potter Barn

**Author's Note:**

> This is my wonderful little gift to the pinch hitters- I truly hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you so much to the HD OwlPost mods for hosting this year - you've been a delight and I couldn't be happier to be a part of this fest!
> 
> A million thanks to the wonderful M for being the fastest, most enduring beta this fic has ever seen! You were wonderful!

What drew him to the clearly empty flower shop on the coldest side street in the middle of nowhere, Draco could not explain. It had been abandoned for some odd years now, and the news that someone had bought it had brought up quite a stir in the little village where he lived. Still, he turned the corner and walked through the ice and snow covered gate. Even the door chime’s ring sounded lost and hollow as it echoed throughout the empty store. 

It held a strong resemblance to an overgrown garden shed, completely made of faded driftwood collected from Merlin knows where, with an entirely glass roof that was covered spare the odd spot here and there covered in ice, layered and hardened, night after night in the dead of winter. An old sign hung from the top of the door, declaring the very-much-abandoned building “OPEN for BUSINESS!”

“Hello?” 

If the chime echoed, Draco’s voice carried and was lost to the open air. It was barely warmer inside the store than out, on account of the opening to the back gardens, snow covered and grey as they were. Feeling the chill start to creep in, he tip-toed his way through a slightly garish Christmas decoration display, careful to not jostle the flashy flower ornaments. His next step was immediately warm. Jostled by the feeling, Draco looked down and saw a small, Muggle heater hidden underneath an open cupboard. 

As his eyes trailed the area, he saw there were several heating lamps scattered throughout the room. Still unattended to, but not up for leaving just yet, Draco chose the heater closest to the register and stood patiently after ringing a rusted bell.

“Hello? Is anybody here?”

What _the hell_ , was that— _Potter?!_ “...Yes?”

And that was how Draco turned to see Harry Potter face-to-face for the first time in nearly ten years. He would later blame the sweaty, flushed look that crossed his face on the heater next to him. It was turned up way too high for the area—complete fire hazard, it was.

“Malfoy? What the—what’re you doing here?” It was amazing, really, how Potter could manage to sound like he was questioning the question he himself was asking. As if he wasn’t sure Draco was real.

Draco was very real. And even if he wasn’t, Potter should feel blessed his hallucinations were in such form.

“I have clearly come into your store with the intent to purchase something,” he said in a clipped tone, waving his arm momentarily before wrapping it back around his middle. Merlin, it was frigid. “Although I’m not entirely sure the ‘Open’ sign actually means keeping your doors open, Potter.”

Potter was still staring at him strangely, but Draco saw his lip twitch a little. Brilliant! He seemed to consider Draco for a second before walking to each window, humming some tune that Draco swore he knew but couldn't place. 

“Uhhhmmm...” Potter was ever the conversationalist, as usual.

Still, Draco stood and waited as Potter went around to each window before attempting another conversation. His mouth opened, and then closed again. Draco could feel his own mouth start to open in question just before Potter gave a wave and the entire store was warmed up with a Heating Charm. 

“Is that better?” Draco nodded, and lowered his arms, flexing his hands to shake the shivers out as the heat enveloped him and made it just that side of toasty inside his winter coat. When Potter didn’t say anything else, Draco cast his eyes about the store.

At a loss of what in the world one says to someone they haven’t seen in ten-odd years, he threw out, “So—plants?” and promptly died internally and quirked his mouth up in a way he knew Pansy would tease him dreadfully for. Neither Pansy nor Blaise would have ever called Draco smooth when vying for someone’s attention, but then again they’d always said Potter had a soft spot for him. 

“Plants.”

“Hmmm…” this was the most pitiful conversation Draco had had this week. And that counted the weekly one he held with the canteen water cooler at work. 

Potter apparently agreed, because he stopped doing the tidying he’d started while Draco struggled to think. 

“You said you wanted to buy something? What are you looking for? We’ve wreaths and trees out back, and the poinsettias over there,” he continued, pointing behind Draco where, yes indeed there was a rather large amount of the garish red plant assorted. 

“Or—I’m not quite sure why but we’ve also managed to over-order sweetbox…”

Now, Potter was rambling, hands running down a list from behind the counter. Draco watched Potter for a while, fascinated with the way he was lost in something, hand running up the back of his neck and messing the bird’s nest-wreath-rosebush disaster that was his hair. He kept pointing to random sections of the store and Draco saw that there were indeed boxes piling up on the sides, hidden with a slight glamour. When he told Pansy about this later, Draco would blame the heat for things he was thinking.

Because, there was nothing on Earth that would make him think soft, warm thoughts about Potter. 

Hell, when Draco had thought to enter the store, he’d almost hoped it was Muggle and that he could break in. Not that he was a vagrant who pilfered flower shops. Draco just found he liked going in spaces where people weren’t - whether they’d been abandoned for years or just a couple hours. It was nice, to see everything in its own process. Some completed items, some halfway, others just started. 

Draco hadn’t broken into someone’s house, of course. But to wander around a store someone was able to make a livelihood out of, rather than be at someone’s beck and call soothed something in Draco. 

Potter rocked his feet forward some, shifting back and forth until he’d edged himself out to the point of nearly falling backwards. “What do you think,” after Potter caught his attention, he tapped his hands against the till, “for a store name—the Potter Barn.”

Draco snorted. “This is a shed, not a barn, Potter—although I do have some reservations about whereabouts you may have grown up—“

Potter laughed and leaned forward onto his elbows. He looked properly knackered, almost leaning on it for support. “In a cupboard.”

Maybe the man has finally lost it, Draco thought. “But this is a shed.” 

“I know—I know it is, but the name is a pun. A pun on a kitschy Muggle store that’s very popular in the area. “

“So you thought you would capitalize on the name and hope for the best when someone gets lost trying to find a Muggle store?” How very Slytherin of him.

“No, but that is a bloody _brilliant_ idea now that you mention it,” Potter admitted. “I just like puns.” 

“Potter, have you even opened the store, yet?”

He blinked at his list in response, and then looked up. Apparently Draco’s type was sweat stained, covered in dirt, and looking hopelessly lost, because Draco couldn’t take his eyes off Harry. “Ummmm...not really, no. That’ll be next week some time.” 

Draco coughed out a laugh and then looked around. “So then, why on Earth are you letting me stand here? Have you—have you had a proper night's’ rest? Or have you been here all night?”

“Can it be both? I think I fell asleep on the mulch over there for some time this morning—hm…,” he trailed off, “yeah, you probably shouldn’t be here?” 

The list was put down, and Harry’d leaned against the counter, head dropping between his shoulders some. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here?”

He sounded a little manic, and given the state of the store, Draco had to assume that this wasn’t the best time for him to be here. Even if Potter’s state was worrying him and the garden shed felt more comfortable than the small flat he had. 

“Tell you what, why don’t you take a break? No one in the area’s even mentioned this place has been bought yet—you don’t need to be stressing yourself out so much, one would think you’d had enough of that?” 

Draco didn’t like remembering how much stress Potter had been under in their Hogwarts days, nor did he like revisiting his own. He was quite content to just disappear into society and lead a small, quiet life away from prying eyes. 

Potter’s mouth quirked some, and Draco knew he was thinking the exact same thing. Or possibly blaming him for the stress—Merlin knows he deserved it. 

“Surely you’ve got someone who can take over? Don’t any of your lot know about this?” He remembered Longbottom having a ridiculous affection for plants. 

“This was supposed to be a surprise,” Potter said before he looked at Draco. “Why am I telling you this—why do you even care?”

Draco turned around to look at the store rather than face Potter across the counter. “It’s the most interesting thing to happen in the area, if I’m honest with you,” he admitted, looking back over his shoulder. 

This was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Potter’s eyes flashed, and the next thing Draco knows, he’s being shown the door. “Right, right I’m sorry—this, this isn’t going to be a good time. I really should get something—” 

Just before he closed the door, Potter shot him an apologetic look, hand pressing the door shut as softly as possible so as not to jostle the sign that was now flipped to _Closed_. 

And then he was gone from view, and Draco was left feeling properly excluded. Again. 

Draco was left feeling out of sorts, wondering what on Earth he’d done wrong. He was still recounting the small talk they’d exchanged when he heard a small buzzing noise over his shoulder. Draco turned and found himself met with a small Snitch ornament, clearly fake, with its little tag attached. Draco blinked stupidly at before hurrying along to his house, wary of anyone nearby or watching them and spotting it.

When Draco got to his door, the snitch rudely flew into his face, humming excitedly around him until he grabbed it. It immediately stilled, and he was surprised to see an inscription appear on it. 

_I open at the close... Owl me at 7. Harry._

“Well, that’s just dirty,” Draco murmured, fingers tracing the message. Frustratingly enough, the snitch itself didn’t open, he’d definitely have to file a complaint. 

\---

When Draco returned, the door to the shed was flipped back over to reflect it was open, even if the hours stated otherwise. The holiday music that he heard earlier was playing a little louder this time, recognizable through the door. 

“I’m sorry—about earlier, truly, I am,” Potter blurted out. “That wasn’t the best of me.”

Draco shot him a disbelieving look. 

“Potter, I can name at least thirty different times you and I have done much worse things than show each other the door. It was fine - I was the one that trespassed, really.”

Harry shot Draco a sad smile in return, and Draco could feel himself melting all over again. Potter beckoned for him to take a seat on one of the new counter stools he’d not seen that morning.

“Right—we definitely have. So—to at least try to make up for earlier, here—“ Potter handed him a glass of wine he’d pulled out of thin air. Just what Draco needed, alcohol to make the silly little crush he was remembering go away.

“It’s only from across the street, so I can’t guarantee it will taste amazing, but it’s better than nothing. And call me Harry, Draco.”

Taking a seat, Draco made sure to hold onto the side and move it as closely to the counter as possible. Draco would slip right off this stool like the besotted fool that he was if Harry gave him another smile, or said his name again. 

Accepting the wine from Harry, Draco peered at Potter’s own pour, face. “Are you sure it won’t put you to sleep?” He was trying very hard not to remember his stupid Hogwarts pash, and if Potter—Harry—kept giving him with things, Draco didn’t know what he would do.

“I took a nap earlier—”

Draco took a sip to stop himself from laughing, mouth scrunched up slightly despite his best efforts. “If it was on plant matter I’m not sure that counts, Harry. And this is definitely cheap wine.”

“Well, if it doesn’t count, Draco,” he teased, “then I’ll get a better night’s rest with this. To sleep!” 

He watched Harry take another sip and enjoyed the calm warmth that filled him. There were still specks of dirt in his hair, and it was smudged across his hands. Of course Harry had always had that windswept, out of control hair, but if Draco hadn’t known Harry was into gardening, he’d say that it was Floo powder. 

The store had a completely different atmosphere at night. Where before, Draco could have sworn the atmosphere was oppressed by the drab, grey hue winter often brought, now the golden glow of the lamps above them and the small radiant heaters around them made it feel homey. The snow covered glass ceiling blocked out parts of the night sky in a deep purple, the glass doors to the gardens sealing them off from the cold. It was just the two of them, surrounded by plants, and classic, if cheesy, holiday items. 

Harry started talking about what he wanted the area to look like when it was finished, while Draco politely sipped and nodded at the appropriate times. There was still a hint of tiredness, but if there was one thing Draco could recognize in his eyes, it was a passion for something. Harry looked like he’d stepped out of something important to be here, and Draco wasn’t sure if he should feel guilty or thrilled, but he was more than happy to live in the moment.

Harry had also been watching him out of the corner of his eye. Draco knew when he was being watched, and when he was being appreciated, and given the current environment, Draco was quite keen on the second. Now that they’d gone through a glass or two of something that’d left a rather bizarre taste in this mouth, Draco gathered some courage to ask what he’d been wanting to all night. 

“So, would you care to explain the snitch?” He pulled it out from his pocket and watched it flutter to Harry.

Harry stopped talking about an expansion he’d been going on about to catch it. Draco smiled at the instinct. “Huh?”

“Sorry—the message? I open at the close? There’s nothing that shows it can be opened,” he pointed at the snitch toy. 

“Unless, of course…” he looked to Harry who’s face slowly split into a rather secretive smile.

“Another pun. A rather fun one, wasn’t sure if you’d understood it, to be honest,” Harry said. 

“Care to share?”

“It was just a stupid pick up line, really, thought you might be interested, actually, I’m going to say,” Harry leaned in closer, his glass clinking against Draco’s, “you are.” 

Draco’s focus moved from Harry’s piercing green eyes as they slipped closed. In turn, Harry’s lips parted, and pressed against Draco’s in a tentative kiss. The angle wasn’t the best, and his hand was threatening to send the glass flying off the counter, but it felt right.

Harry pulled away with a smile and walked around the counter. He then vanished the glasses Draco had been fingering nervously and kissed Draco back, harder this time, before pulling back quickly. “This okay?”

Momentarily stunned, Draco nodded and mumbled a quick, “More than,” before he wrapped his arms around Harry and brought him close again. This was something new, something untouched for years, and Merlin, did he want never to let go. Harry’s hands roamed all over Draco, pulling at his hair before they languidly pressed into the muscles in his back as they kissed.

Harry pulled away after a moment and asked, “What was it you did for a living, again?”

“Something entirely boring that doesn’t involve us having sex where I work, because the damned room is too small and too public,” Draco said with a smirk.

“That’s a damned shame. Might just have to make it up here - give you something to look forward to at the end of the day,” Harry said into Draco’s neck. “Just a thought, really.”

“It’s a bloody brilliant thought, Harry.” Harry’d just bit down as his hand fumbled through the fly in Draco’s trousers. Draco struggled against the wood of the counter, and his hand slipped, sending something flying. 

“Fuck—s-sorry—” Draco cried out, turning back to see what damage he caused.

Harry turned him back. “Don’t worry about it, doesn’t matter, I’ve got better things in mind, anyway,” Harry’s hand was a vice grip around Draco’s cock, a warm heat Draco wanted to fuck into, and so did he as Harry stared down appreciatively. 

Draco couldn’t help but look down as well, mouth dropped open and panting as he watched Harry produce lube out of thin air and lavish Draco’s cock with it, the slick noise filthy in the silence of the store. Draco had only just begun to truly appreciate it when Harry dropped to his knees. But as his legs struggled to stay up, Harry’s mouth was warm, a wet heaven for Draco’s cock as Harry sucked. As Harry trailed his tongue under the shaft in time with his mouth, and Draco found it hard to concentrate on anything else.

The muffled moan that Draco heard come from Harry had chasing the edges of release as he fucked into Harry’s mouth. “I’m definitely not going to last long with this,” Draco warned.

That, unfortunately, caused Harry to pull off of him and look up curiously.

It could have been the wine, but after he heard Harry’s slightly hoarse voice ask, “Would you rather come with my cock up your arse” Draco may have lost his ability to speak. Or to think, really. Between the hand that continued to stroke him and the look on Harry’s face, there was nothing unfortunate about that—plus the mental image alone—

“I’m certainly not opposed to the idea— _ahh_!” he got out.

Harry had him turned around and feeling foolish for all of five seconds with his arse out before Draco’s mind blanked out. Again, the drastic contrast between the heat of the room and that on his own person was driving him mad. Harry’s tongue licked a slick line down his crack before it delved into his arsehole, the heat of his breath prickling Draco’s skin. 

Draco couldn’t thrust back, and couldn’t pull away from the maddeningly slow tease, as Harry held him steady and gave him everything, his fingers dipping in the slightest bit every few licks as if to remind Draco of what could happen. If Draco's hands had slipped before, they were in a death grip around the wood of the table now. There wasn’t anything to stop Draco from crying out, so he did, loudly, because he knew Harry was hard, and was probably dying to fuck him, and yet - this stubborn—git—was just—

“Potter, would you _kindly get—_ AH, _on with it and get your cock in me_?” he hissed, turning his head around. 

It was a terrible idea, because Harry looked about as fucked out as he felt, his mouth a ruddy disaster and eyes bright. “Good to know I’ve properly pissed you off, Malfoy.” That shouldn’t have made his cock twitch, but it did. 

Draco wanted to tell himself he didn’t make a pathetic whine when Harry slapped his cock against his arse. His voice definitely didn’t get higher as Harry properly slipped the head in, either. Draco’s whines drawing out into a low moan that filled the room when Harry fucked into him, then drew back out slowly and thrust deeper each time until he was fully inside Draco and panting against his neck.

“Mmmmm...still angry?” Harry whispered. 

“Fuck, fuck— _ah_ , not quite, frustrated, more like,” Draco breathed out.

“Good, because your arse is incredibly _fucking_ tight.” Maybe it was because he hadn’t had sex in quite some time, or because they’d never done this together, but Draco was going to take a wild guess that Harry’s own personal tastes led towards torturously slow sex. 

Unfortunately for Harry, that wasn’t going to happen. Draco’d barely been treated to much at all when he knew he was going to come. His dick had its own plans, and if Harry hit that angle _one more time_ \- 

Draco blacked out when he came. His arms gave out underneath him, and his head dropped down and touched the counter. As his cheek was pressed against the cool wood, Draco could feel Harry still inside him. It was a long moment before Draco realized his cock had spurted a mess into the trousers pulled down around his legs. 

When Harry pulled out of him, Draco was brought back by the loss of his cock. Not a second later, Harry pressed two fingers back inside of Draco, petting and sending jolts up his spent cock as Harry painted the top of Draco's arse with his release. 

Draco didn’t think it was possible to feel any dirtier, but he’d been proven wrong yet again as Harry, without a care in the world, apparently, slumped against him and sighed contentedly.

“Fuck.”

“Hmmm,” his fingers may have finally left Draco’s arse but Harry’s lips was quite content to mouth at his neck, and confirmed that yes, Draco had just earned himself a cuddler. 

When the two of them gained proper control of their limbs, Draco cast a couple of quick cleaning spells that he knew wouldn’t be quite enough, but it did the trick for the moment. 

“I’d quite like to that again some time,” Harry sighed.

“You did mention something about finding things to look forward to—”

Harry pulled back from the kiss. “Ah, well—you can consider that an introduction,” he laughed. 

“If that’s the introduction, I’m quite excited for the rest of the story,” Draco murmured against his lips as he captured them again. Draco found himself trapped against the shed door for quite some time before Harry pulled away again. 

“Y’know, now that I think about it—those mulch bags _are_ quite comfortable—”

“Fuck off, Harry,” he laughed. “Good night. Please get some sleep… I might see you sometime later this week...?”

“Yes, definitely.”


End file.
